


Naughty Nice or Dyslexic

by BookWyrm07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Crack, Gen, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookWyrm07/pseuds/BookWyrm07
Summary: Cas pulls Sam and Dean to act as referee when Santa and Satan argue over fanmail.





	Naughty Nice or Dyslexic

Sam stared at the tree that sat in the middle of the bunker. He sighed. “Dean, why do we have a Christmas tree?”

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, it would be stupid to put it up next week.” Dean said. His head popped out from behind the tree. “Here, Abominable Snowman, put this on top.” He gave his brother a small angel figure, this one had a trench coat. Sam did a double take realizing that Dean wore bright red Christmas sweater. It was covered in snowflakes and a giant sloth in a santa hat. “Like the sweater? I got one for you too.” He pulled out a green sweater covered in moose and trees. 

“I'm not wearing that.” Sam turned to put the little Cas on top of the tree. Some of the other ornaments caught his eye. He saw devil's trap pendants, hex bags and what looked to be a garland of vampire teeth. “How drunk are you, Dean?”

“Oh! Come on, Sammy! Where's your Christmas spirit?” His smile grew a bit too wide when he added, “you should have some egg nog.”

Sam took the glass his brother shoved into his hand. He gave it a weary sniff. “Holy crap, Dean! What is this half whiskey?”

“Eh, more like a quarter.” Dean took a another drink. “Relax, Sammy, we are taking the holiday off.”

As if invited by Dean's statement Castiel appeared. “I need you two to come with me,” he began in his usual gravelly voice. “Two extremely powerful beings are locked in battle and I fear you two are the only ones that can help.”

“Who's ass do we need to kick?” Dean asked looking for his coat.

“I'm afraid it really isn't that simple, Dean. We have to go.” The angel placed hand on each brother's shoulder, and they blinked out of the bunker.

\---

Castiel and the Winchesters reappeared in room filled with bookshelves holding thick leather bound volumes, old fashioned furniture and a roaring fireplace. Two men stood over a large desk engaged in a game of tug of war with one of the books.

“Let it go fat man. I just need to see who is on which list,” snarled Lucifer.

“The letters were meant for me. Dyslexia doesn't disqualify a child's Christmas wish,” replied a large man with a jolly voice in a bright red suit. 

“The letters clearly said 'Dear Satan’ not ‘Dear Santa’ therefore they are mine, and now that I'm out of the cage I will answer them.”

“Go back to hell. This is my holiday.”

The ground shook with their battle. Each time the book moved. “Cas, what makes you think we can solve this?” Sam asked.

Dean bounced with excitement. “Sammy! Sammy! It's Santa! The real Santa, not some flesh eating wreath riding wanna be! The real deal.”

Cas looked at Sam, “With your history with Lucifer and his unusually festive mood, I thought you would have the best chance to approach him. In this aspect of his being Santa cannot harm humans. If her were Krampus we would be in trouble.”

Sam took a deep breath. “You done fanboying over there, Dean?” The older brother nodded and put on a straight face, but only just barely. “Okay, here goes.” Sam raised his voice to be headed over the argument, “if the two of you keep this up there are going to be earthquakes, tsunamis, and Chuck only knows what else. How about we talk about this, come to some kind of compromise?” 

“Compromise?” Santa asked in out rage, “he is the dark lord of hell. Now he wants to deliver Christmas presents. It will be worse than that Tim Burton movie.”

“Lucifer, are you going to be giving possessed toys that do things like bit or spit fire?” Sam asked.

The fallen angel rolled his eyes. “Of course not, Sam. These children wrote me letters asking for specific toys. I'm going to give them what they asked for, and no, not as a crossroads type deal. I just want to know who's naughty or nice so I can adjust accordingly.”

Dean laughed, “you going to be giving the bad kids coal in their stockings?”

The bearded old man scoffed. “What century do you think we're in? Coal! Have you thought about climate change? Naughty boys and girls get socks or itchy sweaters.”

Lucifer shrugged. “I was gonna give them a bonus. You know what they asked for and a little something extra for writing to the right guy.” 

“Maybe you both can give them a present. Most kids have more than one toy on their list. You could each give them one,” Sam suggested.

“Then those children are getting extra gifts,” Santa protested.

“Gift giving is never equal. Rich kids get way more presents than poor ones, favorite kids more than their siblings. This year the bad spellers can get an extra gift marked from Satan. I can work with that,” Satan finished.

“Fine, but you don't need to see the list,” Santa agreed. They shook hands.

\---

Christmas morning Sam had just gotten back from a morning run when his eyes focused under the tree. “Dean!” he yelled, “get out here. I think we need to check the wards.”

Dean came into the room, toothbrush in hand. “What are you talking about?” Sam pointed under the tree. “Dude! Presents!” Dean found one with his name on it and ripped open the paper. He squealed in excitement at the Styx album Killroy Was Here signed by all original members in mint condition vinyl. 

Sam picked up the tag, “from Satan,” he read. Dean was already opening his other gift, this one a brand new shotgun from Santa.

“Open your presents, Sammy, or I'll do it for you.” Sam sat down and started with the one from Santa, a new laptop, the exact one he had been looking at. He hesitated a moment before opening the other gift. It was an extremely old book. One that the Men of Letters had once had here in the bunker. He had only skimmed it before the Steins had burned it. A small slip of paper fell out.

“Sam, these gifts are free. Thanks for helping me play the good guy for once. -Lucifer


End file.
